


Trust Me

by lola381pce



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Phil Coulson, Clint - Freeform, Dirty Thoughts, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Fantasizing, Fantasy Fulfillment, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Mission Fic, Mutual Masturbation, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Office Sex, Porn, Post-Mission, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Submission, Sexual Tension, Smut, Top Clint Barton, Trust, Trust Kink, dom!Clint, sub!Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4374878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson had never believed himself to be submissive when it came to sex...until a new specialist argued with him over the comms during an op.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Coulson Appreciation Week run on tumblr by coulsonsss and embraceyourfandom. This was my entry for Day six - free day... If you're interested, you can find submissions with the tag #coulsonweek.
> 
> The characters don't belong to me but to Marvel Studios - I'm just having some fun with them. As always, hope you enjoy and thanks for reading :)

“I need to move position.”

“Say again, Specialist.” Coulson remained calm and composed. He was not going to let Specialist Clint Barton get to him on their very first mission together.

“I need. To move. Pos-i-tion.” the archer replied as though he was speaking to a three-year old.

The senior agent held back a sigh, closed his eyes and repeated the mantra. He was NOT going to let Specialist Clint Barton get to him.

Coulson understood the bulk of Barton’s attitude problems stemmed from his handlers not trusting him to make a decision which in turn made the archer seem like an insolent smartass. But Coulson wasn’t like most handlers.

“We went over this at the mission briefing, Specialist. However…” he paused for a moment; admittedly he was somewhat curious, “...why don’t you see if you can change my mind.”

There was a brief silence over the comms as Barton, stunned that a handler was actually allowing him to express an opinion, considered his words carefully. “I can make the shot from here but it’s risky. Now that I’m in place, I can see there’s another spot which gives me better cover and a better line of sight; the access could be considered… complicated but I think it’s worth it. Permission to move?”

“Specialist, this has been risk assessed…”

“I’m aware of that, sir, and this is a good location but the secondary point has a better...I dunno...feel to it.”

Coulson noted with interest that the position the archer described was the one he’d contemplated initially when planning the op but had eventually rejected believing it to be too difficult to access and egress quickly and safely. However, if ‘Hawkeye: World’s Greatest Marksman’ believed he could do it, Coulson was willing to give him the opportunity. As an ex-circus performer he might have an advantage over a mere mortal agent.

This was make or break time for Clint Barton. He’d worked his way through six, no seven, handlers since he’d become S.H.I.E.L.D.’s newest specialist and the senior agent had no intention of being number eight. If nothing else it was a matter of pride. Just as he was about to reply Barton spoke two words that would change Phillip J Coulson’s relationship with Clinton F Barton irrevocably.

“Trust me.”

Something Coulson didn't even realise was dormant inside him suddenly ignited. His mouth became dry and yet it seem to water at the same time. His palms sweated and itched and his cock, which had been quietly minding its own business, throbbed in his pants. He only just managed to prevent a long, low moan from escaping but there was nothing he could do about the shiver that ran down his spine.

“Hey Boss, you gone to sleep down there?”

On the contrary; he’d just woken up. With a superhuman effort, Coulson reigned in every emotion currently raging through his system and shut them down.

“Affirmative, s...Specialist. You have a go.”

Cool and competent Senior Agent Coulson faltered. It was a minute stutter but he could feel himself flush scarlet from his hairline to his chest and seriously, were the tips of his ears glowing because it sure as hell felt like it. Thank god this had been considered a milk run and he was in the surveillance van alone.

Coulson took a deep breath and spoke with a far more authoritative tone,  “Repeat. You have a go.”

“Awesome! Eh… copy that, Sir. Going radio silent until in revised position.”

“Copy that, Specialist.”

Coulson sighed internally giving himself a mental face palm while he continued to observe the the mission progress over the monitors. He also tried to will his growing erection under control but wasn’t having a whole hell of a lot of success with that. He longed to reach into his pants, wrap his hand round his aching cock and...okay, not helping. Truth be told what he actually longed for was the van doors to burst open, for Barton to throw him over the monitoring equipment and fuck him inside out...okay, really not helping!

He clenched his jaw and shook his head mentally berating himself for nearly calling the archer ‘sir’. Coulson had never believed himself to be submissive when it came to sex but when Barton had said ‘Trust me,’ it wasn’t just the words, it was the way Barton spoke them; low and wicked and it made him want to give in completely to the younger man. To let him dominate his body and mind and do with him as he pleased. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and closed his eyes thinking about the archer holding him down and...

“Holy shit, Coulson! What the fuck?”

Coulson’s eyes snapped open. He didn’t bother to respond to Sitwell who apparently had been listening over the comms back at HQ. He knew there was plenty more to follow before he would get an opportunity to break the diatribe.

“Seriously? ‘...the secondary point has a better...I dunno...feel to it?’ Are you kidding me? And you gave in...on the first mission. You rolled over and let him tickle your belly like a goddamn puppy!”

You have no idea thought Coulson as he continued to watch the monitors and ignore the other agent ranting in his ear; Sitwell had been one of Barton’s previous seven.

“It’s what he does, Coulson. He pisses you off until you put him on report or you shoot him. He gets under your skin, like a tick, and sucks out your will to live. He...”

“Thank you for your keen insight, Agent Sitwell,” Coulson interrupted imagining Barton sucking on something other than his will to live. “Just in case you missed it, I’m running a live op here and generally unwanted chatter over the comms right now does not a successful operation make. So unless you can provide me with useful intel to which I have an urgent need, I would appreciate if you would...you know, maybe fuck off?"

Sitwell snorted out a laugh before wisely choking it off. He could only wind Coulson up for so long before the senior agent would seek retaliation and the other man knew, from painful personal experience, that Coulson strongly believed in the old Klingon adage “Revenge is a dish best served cold” with the proviso “...and when you least expect it your ass will be handed to you on a silver platter with a sprig of garnish sticking out your butt-hole!”.

Fortunately any further discussion was cut off as Coulson picked up on movement in the north east corner of the courtyard. “Mark approaching. Specialist, are you in place?”

“Affirmative. Target acquired. Permission to take him out?”

After taking a final visual sweep of the area to confirm that mission parameters were unchanged Coulson replied, “Affirmative, Specialist, you have a go.”

Seconds later, the mark fell against the wall of a building before sliding to the ground, a pool of blood slowly spreading out around him; mission accomplished.

Coulson nodded with approval. “Good shot, Specialist. Meet you at the evac point in ten.”

“Copy that, Sir.”

 

***

 

The passenger door was wrenched open and as he climbed into the van Barton snarked, “Good shot? That was a fucking awesome shot!”

Ignoring Barton while he fidgeted restlessly in his seat, Coulson continued to look straight ahead as he put the vehicle in drive. After doing all his safety checks, he eased carefully into the traffic like a good law-abiding citizen. No need to bring unwanted attention to a van full of surveillance equipment and weaponry.

“No, the shot was well within your abilities,” he finally told the archer, the corner of his mouth slowly pulling up in a smirk.

Barton stopped bouncing and stared hard at his handler. “So you weren’t impressed?” he asked with a slight note of disappointment in his voice.

“It was a good, clean shot but I already expect that from you, Barton.” Once again he paused waiting until he sensed the archer getting ready to speak again before he continued. “Getting to the nest however...I’ll admit that was impressive.”

Content with the praise, Barton lounged back in his seat with a huge grin, planting a foot on the dashboard.

Coulson raised an eyebrow and tipped his aviator shades down his nose to look over the top of them at the archer.  The meaning was clear and Barton immediately dropped his foot back to the floor; the shit-eating grin however remained.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barton leaned in putting his lips against his handler’s ear and whispered, “Do you want me to fuck you, Agent Coulson?”

It was a several months and many successful mission ops later when Barton entered Coulson’s office unannounced with a determination that made the breath catch in the senior agent’s throat. His heart raced as he looked up and saw Barton on the opposite side of the desk staring down at him, arms crossed with an intense look on his face. It was so unlike the Specialist’s usual chilled out demeanour that he older man immediately felt a thrill run through him.  

Each op was becoming more difficult for Coulson. Since their first time out together, despite or perhaps because of Sitwell’s words, the two men had bonded as a unit and worked well together. Yes, Barton still had unbelievable verbal diarrhoea while they waited for missions to play out but instead of it annoying the senior agent, he actually enjoyed their banter - his dry, witty quips complimenting Barton's light-hearted teasing. It seemed to help them both focus and Barton knew to follow orders when Coulson called for quiet on comms.

When planning missions Coulson found himself consulting Barton encouraging and accepting suggestions or patiently explaining why they weren’t an option. In a remarkably short period of time they became one of the most successful strike teams S.H.I.E.L.D. had and with an unusually high success rate they were often sent on the trickiest of assignments lasting anywhere from a few days to several weeks.

Hence the difficulty. It meant they were spending a lot of time together. Invariably, Barton would let loose some comment which would result in Coulson desperately trying to keep his mind on mission while equally desperately trying not to come in his underwear. It was exhausting.

Recently, there had been times after he'd pulled the Specialist’s ass from the fire (literally on one memorable occasion) or when they’d rendezvoused at the evac point, he was so turned on by Barton’s low voice not to mention his skills with his bow or sniper rifle that he couldn’t look the archer in the eye afraid of what the younger man might see. On those days, when they’d made it back to base or the safe house, Coulson would stare at the lighting fixtures in ceilings and walls before he could speak to the archer face-to-face. Then he would disappear to jerk off in the shower like a horny teenager. He was just glad Barton was totally unaware of his feelings towards him.

And so here they were, in the senior agent’s office as he once again reigned in his emotions before speaking. Coulson gave the archer his best inscrutable look and raised an eyebrow enquiring, “Is there something I can help you with, Agent Barton?”

He was pleased, if a little surprised, to note that his voice was steady unlike his trembling hands which he dropped into his lap. As always, when he was alone with the specialist, his eyes moved towards the brightest light source in the room.

“Don’t do that!” Barton commanded. “Look at me.”

His tone was another thing completely at odds with the archer’s normal behaviour making Coulson freeze in his seat, the muscles in his body becoming taut. Trying to regain some control, he defiantly bowed his head to stare at his hands before slowly raising it again to look directly into the other agent’s eyes with a resigned expression.

Not breaking the gaze of his handler, Barton made his way round the desk and reached out to touch the other man’s face. He slid the tips of his fingers along Coulson’s cheekbone trailing them down to his jawline where he cupped his chin tilting his head back. He couldn’t help but feel the tight clench of the other man’s jaw as he held him firmly but gently to look into his eyes; as he had suspected, the pupils were blown.

“I thought so. For weeks now I’ve been wondering what the fuck’s wrong with the lights everywhere we go. Every time I talk to you look at the lights before you reply. And then it suddenly hit me; you’re reducing the pupil dilation in your eyes. The fuck, Coulson?”

The senior agent swallowed unable to speak. He thought he’d been so clever, so discrete. Barton followed the movement of Coulson’s throat and licked his lips catching the bottom one between his teeth as he studied the older man. His handler’s face and neck began to flush under the intense scrutiny.

Coulson finally opened his mouth to respond but whatever he was going to say died in his throat as Barton leaned in putting his lips against his handler’s ear and whispered, “Do you want me to fuck you, Agent Coulson?”

The groan was out of the senior agent’s mouth before he was even aware he’d made it. He could feel his cock, already hardening from the archer’s caress, throb in his suit pants as whatever blood was left in his brain roared in his ears.

Barton’s hand moved round to the back of Coulson’s neck where he gently gripped it rubbing the hairline with his thumb. He nudged the tip of his nose against Coulson’s ear and repeated his question, his voice raw and hoarse, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Coulson whispered in a voice equally broken, “Yes.” Ashamed and aroused, he was beyond caring about what the younger man thought or saw. The question had been asked and he’d answered. Fuck the consequences.

“You asshole!”

Coulson’s stomach lurched - perhaps he wasn’t beyond caring after all. Imagining the worst, he tensed in his seat, his hands gripping the armrests. Jesus, he felt like he was going to throw up.

The archer’s hand remained in place and his thumb continued stroking as he carried on. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? I thought you weren’t interested. I’ve fucked into my hand so many times imagining my dick in your ass that I thought I was gonna get an RSI.”

Coulson snorted. Trust Barton to put it so eloquently.

“I’m serious! I even had to go to medical for an ice pack. Had to tell them I’d been practicing with the bow for too long. Fuck you!” he said smiling against Coulson’s ear as his handler barked out a short laugh his body finally relaxing into the other man’s touch.

“I want to fuck you,” he said again. He prised Coulson’s hand off the armrest and placed it on his crotch. The hardness of his cock was unmistakable beneath his fingers. Coulson closed his eyes and barely holding in another moan. Keeping his hand on top of Coulson’s, Barton rubbed the older man’s palm against his dick.

“Do you feel that, Coulson? Do you feel how hard I am for you?”

Coulson’s breathing was low and shallow. His own cock was rigid, straining against his pants. Touching Barton like this was torture; exquisite and beautiful but torture nonetheless. Barton took his hand away and Coulson continued on his own, his elegant fingers closing around the archer’s shaft through his cargoes.

Barton closed his eyes and thrust up against Coulson’s palm. “Oh yeah. Fuck that’s good. I knew you’d be good. Need more though. Stand up.”

Coulson obeyed pushing the seat away with the back of his legs. Perched on the edge of his handler’s desk, Barton spread his legs wide pulling the other man between them. He rubbed his hand against the bulge in Coulson’s pants dragging a long moan from the agent. Coulson braced himself against Barton’s shoulders trying not to melt at the feel of solid muscle beneath his fingers.

“Take off your clothes, beautiful.”

Coulson’s brain shorted out. This was his office…where he conducted business...with Fury...and Hill...and Sitwell...and wrote recommendations and gave reprimands...and apparently, got naked. He hesitated.

Barton tugged his handler closer with his tie. “Trust me,” he whispered against Coulson’s lips.

Once again those words flicked the switch in Coulson’s head which ended any further resistance. He rolled his shoulders out of his jacket and let it slide down his arms onto the floor seemingly without a care. Barton was surprised - he always figured Coulson for a neat freak. The guy was immaculate and graceful even kicking someone’s teeth in.

“Slowly,” Barton told him as he reluctantly got up from the desk to lock the door; he paused when he heard a quiet voice behind him.

“Lock down protocol Coulson: Charlie Foxtrot Bravo seven.”

There was a click from the lock. Barton turned back to face the desk then stood where he was to watch Coulson unfasten his cuffs with a small smirk turning up the corner of his mouth.

“Any reason your security code is my initials?” Barton asked with a grin.

Coulson’s smirk deepened into a smile that reached his eyes making the corners crinkle. “Maybe...”

He pulled the knot from his tie and taking his time as instructed, tugged it from his around his neck letting it drop to the floor on top of his jacket. He’d unfastened the collar and a couple of buttons of his shirt by the time Barton was back to his place on the desk.

“Come back to me,” he commanded.

Coulson moved into the space between Barton's legs again.  Ducking his head to look at the archer from under his lashes; his blue eyes had darkened to almost black. The archer’s cock twitched in his pants.

“Don’t stop, beautiful." Barton told him softly. "Need to see you."

Feeling self-conscious under the younger man’s steady gaze, Coulson continued to strip out of his shirt. There was a sigh from Barton as he dragged the material over his skin leaving him bare. Coulson dropped his eyes with embarrassment. He knew compared to the archer he was nothing but he hadn’t expected disgust.

“Fuck, Coulson. You’re gorgeous.”

His head whipped up to look at Barton’s face searching for any indication that the specialist was toying with him but there was only desire in his expression.

The archer chewed on his bottom lip, as he stared with fascination at Coulson’s quite frankly sexy-as-fuck hairy chest. He reached up to run his fingers through the wiry hair to the skin below that seemed to burn beneath his touch. He scratched his nails over the agent’s nipples which, to Barton’s delight, turned out to be highly sensitive. The action forced a sharp gasp from the older man and made them pebble into hard little nubs.

“You like that, Coulson?” Barton asked doing it again with a mischievous look on his face as Coulson once more shuddered beneath his touch, arching into it.

Coulson rolled his eyes in response before adding, “Y’think?” in that dry deadpan way of his. The flush of arousal from his face to his chest and the way his body asked...pleaded for more let Barton know the poker-face was just for show. He fucking loved it!

Still resting against the edge of the desk, Barton straightened up before dropping his hands to Coulson’s hips to pull him closer. He leaned in to touch his lips to his handler’s skin and began kissing him gently along his collarbone. Coulson let his head fall back and groaned. Seeking out the area of muscle on top of the bone, Barton’s teeth grazed the skin as he sucked a mark into him, claiming Coulson as his own. He should have asked first he knew but fuck he wanted him so badly it hurt!

Coulson had braced himself by gripping tight to Barton’s shoulders during ‘The Great Sensitive Nipple Discovery’ moments before and was grateful he had. When Barton began to mark him his legs almost gave way beneath him and he couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped from his lips. It was followed by a gentle keening that made Barton react with an intensity that could have been frightening to anyone else. But not to Coulson.

The archer pushed himself away from the desk and roughly turned Coulson round so that his back was to him. Even in this worked up state, he couldn’t help but notice the dusting of freckles across the older man’s shoulders and it made his breath hitch. Another reason to find him fucking gorgeous, not that he needed another reason. He imagined himself trailing a path over those freckles touching each and every one of them but that would be another time...he hoped.

Letting his baser urges take over, he yanked off his t-shirt dropping it on the floor before wrapping one arm across Coulson’s chest holding him tight against him as he kissed and sucked into the curve of the senior agent’s neck teasing it with his lips and tongue.

Barton was possessive and demanding and Coulson couldn’t get enough of him. This, this is what he’d wanted from the specialist since their first mission. He just didn’t believe it would happen. Still didn’t and part of his brain waited for the other shoe to drop. For Barton to laugh and push him away saying "Psych fucker!"

Instead, the archer growled, “Want you. Need you.” The nimble fingers of his left hand opened the fastening and zip then disappeared down the front of Coulson’s pants to stroke him through his boxer briefs. Coulson’s body jerked at the touch, his fingers digging into the solid muscle of Barton’s forearm. He panted in short almost painful breaths as the specialist gently squeezed his balls then resumed rubbing his shaft.

“You like this, beautiful?” Barton growled into his ear drawing the lobe into his mouth sucking on it gently before biting down. It wasn’t hard enough to draw blood but it made Coulson cry out and a steady stream of pre-come soak through the material into Barton’s palm.

Barton grinned at the older man’s reaction. It was everything he hoped and then some. He gave Coulson’s dick a final squeeze before releasing him to slip his hand down behind the senior agent’s briefs making contact with the silky skin of his cock. The feel of him, hot and heavy as he filled out in the palm of Barton’s hand was fucking amazing and judging by the noises Coulson was making, he appeared to be enjoying it too.

Quickly and without ceremony, he tugged Coulson’s underwear and suit pants down giving him better access to the senior agent’s cock and balls...very neatly trimmed and very sexy cock and balls. Oh fuck yeah! He began to work Coulson’s shaft in earnest stroking him from the tip to the root again adding a twist of his wrist as he neared the head that forced a stream of curses from the older man’s mouth and pre-come from his slit.

Keeping a loose grip on Coulson’s dick, Barton speeded up and slowed down maintaining an irregular rhythm to keep him off balance and stave off the orgasm. Occasionally he would drop his hand down to his handler’s balls to caress and squeeze them, giving them a gentle tug.

“FUCK! Yes! Fuck yes!”

The Specialist was happily surprised at how vocal his handler was. On a mission over the comms, Coulson would let Barton talk his ear off only occasionally responding with some witty remark or razor-sharp rejoinder. His subtle humour was often lost on most people except him; Coulson always made him grin if not fucking laugh out loud especially if he was in the mood to do one of those ad-lib "conversations" he did between random couples when they were bored and people watching. But here, as he fucked Barton’s fist, his hips snapping upwards at Barton’s downstroke he cursed and moaned and cried out all of it going straight to the archer’s own dick. He was doing this. He was causing this unflappable, self-controlled agent to come apart in his hands.

Barton was taking Coulson’s mind and body apart piece-by-piece leaving him breathless and desperate for more. His fingers curled around the archer’s forearm gripping hard enough to leave marks of his own. Between Barton’s hot, wet mouth sucking and nibbling at his neck and his hands, those wonderful talented hands one stroking up and down his shaft, the other pinching and teasing his nipple, Coulson was becoming a mass of raw nerve endings waiting to fly apart. Inevitable as it was, he had to focus on something to stop it from happening too soon. He dropped his hand behind him searching for the archer’s cock.

“Naw, baby,” Barton whispered against Coulson’s neck. “Let me look after you. Let me take care of you in here like you take care of me out there. Wanna make you feel good.”

Reluctantly, Coulson returned his hand to Barton’s forearm and leaned back against him closing his eyes abandoning himself to the younger man’s caresses. He was making him feel good, wonderful even but if he kept going at it this way he was going to come much too soon. As if summoned his balls began to tighten and rise in warning, his whole body going rigid with anticipation.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he panted. Beads of sweat broke out across his forehead as he tried to fight the orgasm.

Even without being told, Barton could feel the changes in Coulson as he neared climax - the rise in temperature, the way the muscles of his body tensed and the light sheen of perspiration that glistened on his skin. He nuzzled the curve of Coulson’s neck breathing in the scent of him, revelling in smell of sweat and arousal mixed in with the subtle aroma of his expensive cologne along with something else, something that he couldn’t quite place that was uniquely Coulson and was fucking amazing.

He rubbed his thumb over Coulson’s leaking slit loving the way it released another flow of pre-come and another shudder from the older man. He collected it on the downward stroke, coating the agent’s already slick cock. He would have loved to suck him off but realising how close Coulson was he didn’t want to stop. He was desperate to watch him come apart.

Coulson was gasping, almost sobbing at the way Barton was touching him; gentle yet firm, the calloused pads on his palm adding extra friction to the sensation. One more sweep of the archer’s hand over the head of his cock and he wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer. His hips thrust up as his head dropped back against the specialist. His lips parted slightly the action mocked by his eyes which were clenched tight shut.

“Please,” he begged. “I can’t…”

“It’s fine, beautiful. Let it go,” Barton told him, keeping his strokes smooth and even but quickening his pace.

Coulson did. And it was glorious. He uttered a low growl that seemed to come from his very core before it erupted into a deep, prolonged cry as he jerked and shuddered in Barton’s arms, hot come running over the archer’s hand as it pulsed from Coulson’s cock spattering drops against his stomach.

Barton held him as the aftershocks passed and Coulson’s body went limp, his muscles drained of energy. He could feel his handler’s chest heaving beneath the arm that was still wrapped round the agent. He couldn't believe how protective it made him feel towards the other man and pulled him tighter against his chest.

“Jesus, Coulson! Fuck!” Barton moaned into the nape of Coulson’s neck. His voice was thick and full of want. His untouched cock was aching, straining against his zipper. “S’gorgeous watching you come apart like that. Never expected...Ahhhh fuck!!.”

Coulson’s hand had made its way back to Barton’s dick. He gave it a hard squeeze, just on the right side between pleasure and pain, forcing a surprised curse from the archer. The older man smirked and with fingers equally as nimble as the archer’s, Coulson had Barton’s cargo pants open and his dick released almost before Barton knew what he was up to.

He raised an eyebrow at feeling Barton’s hot, swollen shaft without the need to bypass underwear. Apparently the cheeky fucker was so sure this was where things were headed he hadn’t bothered with his usual purple boxer briefs… yeah, Coulson had noticed. He also noticed, like the rest of his body, Barton’s sack was smooth and hairless. His mouth watered imaging sucking on those beautiful balls, rolling them on his tongue. His spent dick began to twitch again.

He turned to face Barton letting go of him briefly before returning to set his own steady rhythm from root to tip. Barton’s eyes were closed, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips as Coulson’s elegant fingers danced over his cock. He nuzzled against the soft skin below Barton’s ear then brushed it with his lips. Barton rumbled in his chest with approval.

“Want to take you in my mouth? Would that be okay?” The calm, competent agent was back albeit with a voice hoarse from the yell he gave moments before. Or perhaps it was lust. Barton’s brain could dwell on that later but for now his eyes flew open and he stared at the agent as his jaw dropped because truth be told, these were words he’d never expected to be uttered by the man before him. Not to him anyway.

“If you want me to…” Coulson let the rest of the sentence drift off, suddenly uncertain about the archer’s reaction.

“Fuck yeah! I just...fuck.” His hand cupping the back of Coulson’s head, he pulled him in for a kiss; their first kiss he realised as his mouth pressed against Phil’s, his tongue licking inside. It wasn’t gentle or soft or full of romance the way that first kisses were supposed to be. It was rough and wet and full of want, although the way Phil was sucking on his tongue and moaning perhaps that was okay. Admittedly, this wasn’t your typical start to...something; a handjob and the offer of a blowjob before kissing but he reasoned that neither he nor Phil were typical... well anything.

The kiss lasted as long as it took for them to remember neither of them had gills and they broke apart gasping for breath. Still gripping the back of Coulson’s head, Barton rested his forehead against his handler’s, breathing heavily.

“I take it that’s a yes?” Coulson panted, his hand resuming play on the archer’s cock. It didn’t seem prudent to continue while Barton was fucking his mouth with his tongue....too distracting.

Barton’s hips jerked forward at the touch and he snorted out a laugh. “Sure, boss...that’s a yes.”

“Clint, you’ve just made me go off like a rocket and I’m pretty sure that’s my come on your wrist…I think under the circumstances, you can call me Phil.”

The archer laughed again and then groaned as Coulson trailed the tip of his tongue from below his ear to the curve of his neck where he gently sucked it, not enough to leave a mark, but more than enough to make Barton’s cock jump in his hand.

Slowly he made his way down Barton’s body tracing a path with his lips and tongue and teeth wrenching sweet noises from the archer’s mouth along with the occasional curse; apparently Barton’s nipples were somewhat sensitive too as he reacted very favourably to licking and sucking. And there was a patch on his left hip that actually made pre-come flow from his dick when when nibbled...good to know.

Finally, Coulson sank to his knees taking Barton’s cargo pants to his ankles. For a few seconds he studied Barton’s groin and just as the archer was about to ask why the fuck he hadn’t started yet, he licked a broad wet stripe up Barton’s ball sack making his hips jerk and a soft moan escape from his lips. Ignoring Barton’s reaction (but storing it away for later), he sucked on the perineum lathing it with his tongue as the archer writhed and cursed above him.

Leaving Barton almost sobbing, Coulson moved on to younger man’s cock and held the base gently in his fist. He teased the head flicking it gently with the tip of his tongue then running the flat over it lapping up the pre-come that steadily trickled out before drawing him slowly into his mouth. In one long swallow he took Barton all the way in until his cock touched the back of his throat. Barton gave a filthy moan as he realised Coulson was deep throating him. _Coulson was deep throating him_!

Coulson hummed around Barton’s shaft with satisfaction which, as an added bonus, made the specialist whimper. It might have been a while but this wasn’t Coulson’s first rodeo and he had a few tricks of his own to share; it was nice to know they still worked.

His hands moved round to Barton’s firm ass, grasping the buttocks pulling him steadily closer until his face bottomed out against Barton’s stomach. He pulled his head back releasing the archer’s shaft over the flat of his tongue then swallowed him right back in.

“Fuck! Aww fuck! Coulson!” Barton gasped hardly believing it was happening. The man was a fucking oral genius. Who knew the senior agent had such an unbelievable skillset. And what the fuck was he doing with his tongue? If he kept that up Barton was going to come in about five seconds.

As if knowing what the archer was thinking (it was Coulson...of course he knew), Coulson released Barton’s cock with a wet pop and moved back to his balls taking one in his mouth sucking on it as he’d imagined earlier then taking the other and doing it again. Barton above him babbled incoherently his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Ahhh! Fuck! Candy...fffffuck yeah! Mys….It’s like...Fuck! FUCK!”

Coulson could feel Barton’s balls tighten against his tongue. Realising the specialist was getting close he let go of them and slid his wet tongue over Barton’s cock and into his mouth to deep throat him again. Coulson looked up the length of Barton’s body to the archer’s face as he swallowed his shaft. It was such a debauched expression it fired Barton up. His hands dropped to Coulson’s head to grip his hair and with a snarl said, “Gonna fuck your face, Phil.”

Coulson smiled around his cock and squeezed Barton’s ass pulling him deeper encouraging him to do just that.

Barton started to move, slowly at first but after a few thrusts his pace quickened and deepened. Each snap of the archer’s hips pulled a grunt from his mouth. His cock slid down Coulson’s throat challenging his gag reflexes but like the champ he was, he took every inch of it, sucking and moaning round Barton’s shaft, as the tip bumped against the back of his throat.

Not taking his eyes off him, Barton ran his fingers through Coulson’s hair giving it a gentle tug now and again. The things this man could do with his mouth were glorious and amazing. But all good things have to come to an end and after a few more thrusts Barton’s rhythm stuttered, his balls tightening once again. He squeezed Coulson’s shoulder and then roared through clenched teeth as his body spasmed through the orgasm, hot bursts of come shooting down Coulson’s throat. The senior agent swallowed every drop and when he’d drained the archer dry, he licked him clean.

Slowly getting his breathing back under control, Barton continued to hold onto Coulson; to be honest bracing himself against the older man was the only thing keeping him upright.

With his free hand he stroked the older man’s hair down to the nape of his neck, gently scratching it. Coulson leaned into his touch resting his forehead against Barton’s thighs.

“Fuck me, beautiful!” the archer breathed. “That was fucking awesome!”

He felt Coulson smile against his skin. “Next time though, I’m going to bury my dick in your ass.”

Coulson huffed out a laugh. “Next time?” he questioned.

Barton cupped his chin turning his face up to look at him. He rubbed his thumb over the agent’s swollen bottom lip. “Next time,” he repeated. “Trust me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies...I had hoped to get this posted earlier but RL and and a porn muse that decided to go AWOL kind of held things up a bit. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. P.S. Thanks Lillyjk - our chat returned the mojo!


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